Naturally New Year's
The whole of New Year's Eve day pulses with a kind of electricity. Or it doesn't. Depending on whether or not you feel like giving a shit. I find that when you spend holidays in the wilderness, though, they do take on a bit of raw purity.
When I was laying on my back staring at the ceiling of our cabin in the woods, I felt like I always feel when I spend time alone in the natural world. That maybe this is all I need. A room to rest my head and cook my meals. Another small room to scrub my teeth and soak my bones. A heater that can maintain 73 degrees room temp so I can walk around in my undershorts. Of course ... but then where would I get my americano in the morning?
Think about it.
Wash Teeth, If Any
It's New Year's time again. Things I thought would happen didn't. Things I never anticipated unfolded. The year's vacations and long lazy days seem like ages ago. The crazy work seems like it happened yesterday. Time was, is, and will continue to be a mystery. However, it's a new year and there are things to do. Here's Woody Guthrie's resolutions from 1942. I got a lengthy list of my own. Number 13, 17 and 26 are the same on both our lists, though.
On Holiday
My stocking this year consisted of this: wool socks (I used to be “whatever” about socks until I started wearing the fine wicking Merino ones and now I’m a hardliner about them), goat’s milk soap and a wee tin of lip balm, deodorant (you laugh—but this was actually on my list!), broad-spectrum sunscreen, and (obviously) chocolate. This is a very grown-ass woman set of gifts, and I’m not even ashamed about that. And I love my mom for knowing this about me.
Despite the natural seismic tremors of tensions that every family feels (I think?) when compressed together into one house and timeframe, I get to know my parents better every time I go home on holiday. My very favorite thing is when they tell some previously un-recounted anecdote from their pre-“me” life. Like, who ARE these people who gave birth to me?
I got up before sunrise one morning and caught a ride into town with mom and dad on their way to work. I was alone, sitting on a swiftly moving chairlift by 8:30 a.m. The sun was still behind the mountain and all was blue, ’cept for a little pink puff of cold-fog effervescing in the minus-3 degree air. It was a deeply cold, deeply pure moment that I immediately stuck in my cap of fine, pure moments from this year.
I don’t know what’s up with this guy’s jacket but I’d gladly take these chubby Bernese pups off his hands, immediately.
Nephew Patrick—whom I played with extensively—making his bed like a good boy. Now can he come do mine?
Red skies in the morning, sailors take warning.
My parents’ dog Fergus. He wears diapers to bed at night—I shit you not!
Maximum Axial Tilt
Winter solstice! There's no snow here, but I wish there were.
So....
Mt. Tabor with Lefty and then a bath for him.
Rice cakes, sharp cheddar, and mushroom-fennel soup by myself at the kitchen table.
Skatebirding at Commonwealth for Nemo nooner session.
Holiday cocktails at Cathy's house (I'm bringin the champagne!).
Catching a plane home to my mommy's house at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning. Byeeee!
